


The Outlaw

by RobberBaroness



Series: Darkest Timeline [7]
Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dark, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:09:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22264654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobberBaroness/pseuds/RobberBaroness
Summary: Lancelot has fled into the forest, but he is determined that he will see his lady again- and woe to any who stand in his way.
Relationships: Guinevere/Lancelot du Lac
Series: Darkest Timeline [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1598476
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	The Outlaw

“Do you remember the giant who abducted the Duchess of Brittany and her ladies?” Kay asked. Though he was not Arthur’s brother by blood, there was a noticeable resemblance in their mannerisms- the way they walked, the way they laughed, and in this case, their tone of voice when agitated.

Bedivere’s handsome face grew grim.

“Remember? I still see the Duchess’s body in my nightmares. Why should you bring it up at a time like this?”

“Because say what you will about giants, at least they can’t hide!” Kay shouted, before looking about for something to kick. A good battle might have assuaged his anger, but Joyous Gard had surrendered before the catapults could be fired. They’d found out the reason for it soon enough- their master had disappeared. At first Kay was skeptical and had assumed they must be sheltering the traitor, but a thorough search had uncovered nothing.

And now the messengers were bringing word of trouble back at Camelot from Mordred, whom Kay had said all along was a bad choice for regent. The army would have to move back, and there would not be time to stay and search any further. There had even been talk of pardoning Lancelot’s friends in order to incorporate them back into the army- Kay had grudgingly agreed that made sense, even if the only one he personally forgave was Palomides, who had apparently gotten a distorted account of what Lancelot was actually being accused of.

“He can’t get away with this!” Kay snarled. “He can’t just crawl back to France and never face death or trial! What sort of warriors are we, if we cannot avenge our own Queen? And damn it all, where is Arthur? He just took Gawain and vanished and promised to send word later. Well, later has come and gone and there’s still no word or order from him!”

“I know all this,” sighed Bedivere. “And you know I know it. What are you trying to say to me?”

“I’m asking for permission to stay behind and hunt the bastard down myself.”

“Absolutely denied. If not for your sake, if not for our friendship, then for Arthur’s. His wife was violated, his son has turned traitor, his best friend is responsible for all of it, and now you want him to lose his brother on top of all the rest?”

Kay lifted an eyebrow.

“Lose a brother, eh? You’re that sure Lancelot would beat me?”

“I’m that sure, yes. Until we can afford large search parties, let him live as an outlaw in the woods, feeding off uncooked rabbits and searching for streams to quench his thirst. I guarantee you, he has not fled back to France.”

“And what makes you so sure of that?”

“Because Guinevere is in England.” Bedivere’s response drew a look of disgust across his old friend’s face, and some muttering about how the man was madder than he seemed if he thought he could so much as touch the Queen again. But Bedivere’s eyes were turned towards the woods.

King Arthur couldn’t lose his seneschal. The army couldn’t lose their marshall. But deputies could always be assigned, and there was no replacing a brother. Kay was right- Lancelot could not be allowed to get away with what he had done.

***

Lancelot could think of so many ways things could have gone differently. Seeing them in his mind was all that was keeping him sane as he wandered through the forest.

_ That night in Maleagant’s castle, she pulled herself closer to him. “If my captor has forced me to break my marriage vows,” she said, “then let it be with you. Not with Maleagant, but with my knight protector.” And they lay together thinking it to be the last time they would ever touch, but after he had saved her from her abductor, they continued to meet in secret whenever they could. They never stopped loving Arthur, but they obeyed a higher love and a higher loyalty. _

Or

_ He confessed his love to her that night in her room and she smiled sadly in return. “Oh Lancelot. I love you more than life itself. What are we going to do?” And they kissed desperately, and when the Orkney Princes burst in he slaughtered them all, including Mordred. And when Guinevere was accused of treason he came to her rescue and fought a war for her life and honor. _

Or

_ With three of the Orkney Princes dead, he seized her by the waist and pulled her along after him, away from the room, away from the castle, onto his horse and away from Camelot. She might weep and scream like a virtuous lady, she might never understand that what he did in carrying her off was for her own protection, she might not return his love whenever he kissed her on those lips as red as apples, but he would keep her safe from Mordred and Joyous Gard would fight to the death for her. _

“I’ll see her again,” he muttered to himself. “By god, I’ll see her again.”

“By god?” asked Galahad. “I think the Old Testament was very clear on the punishment for forcing a married woman and keeping her from crying out.” Galahad looked as self righteous as ever, that same look of offense Lancelot had seen on the face of Elaine of Corbenic when he’d refused her, then again when she’d drugged him and found he was not elated to wake up in her bed. Why wasn’t Galahad off haunting his mother?

Elaine of Corbenic was an even fouler memory than Elaine of Astolot. And the latter had been the first time Guinevere had ever reproached him, for lying with a girl and then leaving her, as if half the court hadn’t done the same thing without their girls ending their own lives. And he’d only even touched her because he could stand the loneliness no longer, and because if he closed his eyes and listened only to her soft voice, he could pretend she was the woman he really loved.

The fate of Elaine of Astolot was on his head, that he knew, but if he was going to hell, Elaine of Corbenic would be right there beside him.

“Find someone else to pester,” said Lancelot. “You’ve made your point very well by now.”

“Have I? Then why do you still pity yourself? The deepest circle in hell is reserved for traitors and oathbreakers.”

“I swore to Arthur-”

“Not your vow to Arthur, you shortsighted fool! Your vow to Guinevere.” Galahad scowled. “When you named yourself her knight, you swore to love her unselfishly and to protect her from all harm. You have broken that vow in the greatest way imaginable.”

Lancelot did his best to shut out the thoughts pulling at his mind, and instead turned upon his son.

“You said I wouldn’t know if you ever loved? True enough. But I know you never loved as I do. Not with every bit of your heart and soul, not with an ache so great you could die of it, not with a passion that could overcome the judgement of heaven itself.”

This silenced Galahad for a moment. He looked into the distance as if there was something his father could not see. At last, he spoke softly.

“Her name was Dindrane. Like myself, she had sworn herself to chastity in pursuit of the grail. And so I never told her. And I never touched her.”

Lancelot looked at him in astonishment.

“Then you were a fool,” was all he could say. 

Galahad would say nothing in response to that, and it was nighttime before Lancelot heard another human soul. He had his sword drawn when Bedivere emerged from the trees. He was an easily recognizable figure even in the dark, with his golden beard and his single arm; many had underestimated him because of the latter, and many had died for that mistake.

“Lancelot.” It was neither a warm greeting nor a direct challenge, as Bedivere said it. “They say that Mordred has taken Camelot. I don’t know what has happened to the people within. If you ever felt any shred of loyalty to your King, you’ll turn yourself over to me as a prisoner and end this division of Camelot’s forces.”

Lancelot laughed harshly.

“I warned you. I warned you all a thousand times about Mordred. And now you ask me to be your prisoner because you failed to heed those warnings? What has become of Guinevere?”

Bedivere’s eyes grew darker, though whether at the thought of Mordred or at Lancelot’s daring to mention the Queen’s name, he could not tell.

“Mordred says that he will marry her.”

Lancelot lifted his sword.

“Mordred threatens Guinevere, and now is the time you tell me to turn myself over as a prisoner? The time when she needs me most as a warrior? No. You cannot believe I will go with you.”

Bedivere’s hand went to his own sword hilt.

“I made an offer. If it were not for the danger posed by Mordred’s army, I would have come here with a full company so that you could meet the same fate as any man under my command who harms a woman. This is the last order I will ever give you as your marshall- drop your sword and surrender. You were once a great warrior, whom we all thought would be the one to lead Camelot into glory. Now the only thing you can do for your King is to yield or die.”

That voice had commanded him many times, but hearing it did not bring Lancelot back to the site of one of his past battles. No, he thought of how he had heard the voice at court, heard it speak flattery and courtesy, and something in his blood boiled.

“Propriety and the threat of Mordred. That is why you want me dead or in chains? No, that is not the whole affair, is it? I’ve seen the way you looked at her. I saw your jealousy when she called me her champion. You would take your king’s wife just as soon as Mordred would, were he to fall in battle!”

Bedivere looked at Lancelot with utter bafflement.

“You accuse me? Have you lost your mind? I was never any threat to the queen!”

“You think I will be fooled by your protestations? You think I believe that Bedivere the Fair, the king’s cupbearer, never held designs on the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen?” These were in fact suspicions Lancelot had long held, but in saying them aloud, they became more and more true. “You looked to take my place by her side, and now you at last see your opportunity!”

“So you really are insane, then. Enough of this.” Bedivere’s sword slashed across Lancelot’s cheek, leaving a streak of bright red beneath his right eye. Lancelot growled and swung his own sword at his former friend and commander, missing his neck by a fraction of an inch. Bedivere might have only been able to hold a sword made with the right balance for him, but what he lacked in two-handed sword blows he made up for in deftness. Another swing knocked Lancelot off his feet, and he scrambled to evade decapitation upon the ground.

He would not die here, not now. Not without seeing Guinevere again. Not without saving her from Mordred. Not at the hand of another who desired her. It would not happen. Snarling like a wild animal, Lancelot rolled upon the ground and struck upward- at the base of his spine.

Bedivere did not collapse immediately. It took a few more moments for him to stumble to his knees on the forest ground, where Lancelot was able to hasten his demise by twisting the sword further into his back. But Bedivere’s dying eyes did not turn to look for his murderer- they looked forward towards Galahad.

He died with a smile on his face, and Lancelot knew that what he had seen had not been merely a figment of his own mind but a true angel.

“Why don’t you ever stop me?” Lancelot screamed at his son.

**Author's Note:**

> You know how a lot of authors these days straight up replace Lancelot with Bedivere? Yeah. I don't think Darkest Timeline Lancelot would be too happy about that.


End file.
